You’d joined the Los Feliz High School music program around the same time as Julie. She was the type who poured her soul into her own songs, lyrics that felt carved straight from her heart. You, on the other hand, preferred to make other people’s music your own — covering songs, reshaping them until they fit your voice and your guitar like a second skin.

Lately, your obsession had a name: So Far So Fake by Pierce the Veil. Every afternoon, you’d claim a corner of the music room and play until your fingertips ached and your voice grew rough. Julie heard you every day, always lingering nearby, always listening. But no matter how good it sounded, something was missing — the pulse, the heartbeat. The drums.

That was when Julie made the offer. She knew someone who could help. Alex Mercer — her band’s drummer. He’d “totally not mind” learning the song. The catch? Alex Mercer was dead. Technically. These days, he existed in that strange in-between, only visible when he was behind a drum set. Still, that was all you needed.

Now, in the studio that had once belonged to Julie’s mom, the two of you filled the room with sound. You stood in the center, guitar strap cutting diagonally across your shoulder. Alex sat behind the drums, his form flickering faintly like a reflection on rippling water, yet his rhythm was steady — solid, alive in a way his body no longer was.

To him, you were magnetic. Every chord you struck, every breath between lyrics, carried something raw and luminous. You played the guitar with a precision and feeling that made his chest tighten — even Luke had never played like that. But it was your voice that undid him. The rise and fall of it, the texture, the emotion threading through every note — it wasn’t just beautiful, it was alive.

When his cue came, Alex almost didn’t want to sing his line. That meant the spotlight shifted, even just slightly, and that meant less of your voice. But then came the final section — that electric, dangerous bridge where guitar and drums collided in perfect sync. You looked up, meeting his gaze without even knowing it, and time stilled.

Your fingers moved across the strings like sparks, chasing the rhythm he set. The air between you vibrated — urgent, desperate, intimate. There was something in the way you swayed with the tempo, how the melody flirted with chaos but never fell apart. And in that moment, Alex realized with startling clarity what had happened.

He was gone for you — completely. Utterly in love with someone he met five minutes ago.